


Loki has a Cold

by theflamingpen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Body Worship, Cock Warming, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Jotunn | Frost Giant, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, the grandmaster is loki's sugar daddy basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:55:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theflamingpen/pseuds/theflamingpen
Summary: while sick, Loki loses control of his magic and reverts to his Frost Giant form. fearing the worst from his host, he retreats to bed. but the Grandmaster can't help but notice his absence.





	Loki has a Cold

“They said you were feeling a little under the weather. But come on how bad could it be? I want my eye candy on my arm where I can see and appreciate it. Not locked away. You’re not a gold treasure to be kept in a vault.” 

Another knock sounds on the door, and Loki huffs, turning over on the bed, facing it. 

The Grandmaster seems intent on pressing his luck, invading his privacy. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sick. I didn’t wish to ruin your party with my coughing and sniffling.”

“Baby, sweetheart, honey darling, don’t be like this. You can’t possibly get me sick. I’m ancient, all knowing, powerful and… I could probably heal you. C’mon, lemme see.”

Loki buries himself under the covers and then flicks a finger at the door, lifting the locking charm. Only his hair is visible from beneath the blankets, he knows, and he hears the Grandmaster entering the room, long robes swishing on the floor, boots clicking. He babbles and rambles a lot, but he really hasn’t been terrible to serve while Loki’s been on Sakaar.

“Why are you hiding from me? What’s wrong?” The Grandmaster speaks in soothing tones, a bit lower than his usual party-host voice, and Loki can feel it worming its way into his head. 

“M’not hiding. Just ugly right now. Sick.”

He’s lost control over his magic, thanks to the fever wrecking his concentration, frying his brain slowly. The sneezing, sore throat and runny nose are all tame in comparison to that. His entire body is blue under the covers, and his eyes are no longer clear green. Blood red, and sharp. He knows. Hideous is a nice way of putting it. 

Before he can do or say anything more, there’s a hand right between his, yanking down the blankets, and he squeezes his eyes shut tight, so he doesn’t have to catch sight of the being’s face, the certain disgust and dismay. His prized toy is not the pretty prince anymore. Loki sighs, and yields the sheets completely, letting his hands fall at his sides, and the Grandmaster can’t help but get a good look now. If he’d been merely naked, it wouldn’t have mattered so much. Loki’s always been comfortable with his Asgardian skin. 

“If you’re going to kill me, I’d rather it wasn’t with that melting staff. I’d prefer a more honorable death.”

Loki says it like a breathy whine, partly because his throat hurts, and it’s scratchy, but then he feels a hand dragging down his side, fingertips tickling along one of the markings over his ribs, and down his stomach. 

“My little boy blue, what are you talking about? I’ve never seen this before, in all my years and travels. Or maybe it’s just been a while. I’m also not so good on the memories from several hundred years back…. I know I’ve heard of this design… hmm. You’re cold and you have a cold… poor thing. You need some help.” Loki sighs, and swallows thickly, this time, it doesn’t hurt. He lets his eyes peek open, and sees the Grandmaster looking at him with awe, and nothing near what he was expecting. 

He glances down, watching the Grandmaster continue to touch him delicately, painfully tender and gentle. He’s tracing Loki’s tattoos, his markings, and his eyes are kind. The blue shimmer beneath his lips now seem so faint and tiny compared to Loki’s entire body, and he regrets ever complimenting the man on it. He can find that beautiful and charming, but not his own true form. He’s a well of self hatred and doubt. Especially next to a man who’s really almost a truly eternal being. “You really don’t mind it?” 

His voice isn’t a crack or croak now. His temples don’t ache from a fever pain or throb between them. Loki feels almost… better. He wonders what spells the Grandmaster used. 

“Not at all. I’d ask if I could kiss them all, but why, we’d be here all night. I don’t wanna miss this party. You know, it’s almost time for my birthday. Only a few days away now. I guess I got my wish early. I’ve always wanted a Frost Giant that could fit in my bed.” Loki stiffens, before the Grandmasters hand even drifts between his legs. He’s mostly caressing the dip of Loki’s navel, but there’s little chance that he’s  _ not _ going to play with him entirely, now that he has no excuses. “So you  _ do _ know what I am.” 

The Grandmaster leans down, bending over him, dark eyes glinting with something like warmth and amusement, before he even smiles and noses in to kiss Loki. 

“I know everything sweetheart.” There’s a long slow press of his lips, and Loki gets a moment to breathe before the Grandmaster licks his bottom lip, and then kisses over his jaw, down his neck, swirling his tongue along with some of the designs. 

“I know right now, there’s nothing I’d like more than to make you come, scream my name, and I’ll consider ditching the rest of the gang, just for you. You are my favorite after all. Tell me, tell me.”

Loki gulps, and then reaches for the Grandmaster's robes, keeping him close. It’s time to get to work. He has a part to play, he knows. “Please, stay with me.” That’s the right thing to say, as it happens. 

The Grandmaster keeps going, down the length of his neck, to the hollow spaces of his collarbones and the dip of his chest, pausing to worry his teeth over one of the navy buds of his nipple, as he pinches the other between his thumb and forefinger. 

It annoys Loki how easily the Grandmaster can work him up, while he’s trying to just pretend he’s having a good time. All of the orgasms he has at the being’s hand or cock or mouth are genuine articles. He’s never been with a lover so terrible as to need to fake it. Usually, he’s not allowed to touch back so much, but the Grandmaster guides one of Loki’s flailing hands to his hair, letting him pet the silver strands, and stroke over the man’s scalp. “Do you like this? Is this more fun than having me on display?” 

He feels a chuckle into his skin, before the Grandmaster has reached his inner thigh. 

Both of his hands squeeze roughly over Loki’s hips, thumbs rubbing against the sharp jut of them, 

“Dear me, I think you know better. I’m a fan of being looked at, especially when I have  _ you _ with me. But this will do. Making you feel good makes me feel good sweetheart.” Loki wants to argue, of course he does. He loves the thrill of the debate and the idea of cheating to guarantee a win. But that’s usually when his opponent is Thor. It’s just him now, him and the Grandmaster, who’s dead set on making him come, if the way his tongue is moving can be any indication. Loki’s eyes fall shut, and he rests back on the pillows again, as the Grandmaster takes his cock in as deep as he can. 

It’s all the way, he’s an expert after all. Centuries of experience, Loki knows. He has had only a couple thousand years, as much practice with breathing for a minute as the Grandmaster has lived. Loki isn’t usually loud, but for this, he can be. He doesn’t try to swallow the breathy moans and occasional gasps of surprise as the Grandmaster backs off, and ducks down below his cock to put his mouth along the delicate seam of his sack, licking wetly over sensitive skin, swiping across his hole, urging his thighs to tighten under the man’s hands. 

“I think I’ll feel up to taking you back to the party after this…” Loki tries again, and the Grandmaster laughs against him, breath cold on his wet skin. 

“Good boy, glad to hear it. Now come on, come for me.”

Loki finds it impossible to resist, not when there’s a warm cavern of the Grandmaster’s throat for his cock to be nestled in, and teasing fingers probing his ass. He arches up, and thrusts in deep, feeling the Grandmaster’s tongue flicking hard and fast along the underside of his cock, catching every pulse of come and swallowing. He pulls back and away, kissing Loki’s hip with mild fondness, looking up at him, hair ruffled but not unstylish. “You taste different like this. Sweeter. Tart. I love it.” He squeezes Loki’s hips, and lets go, sitting upright and straightening his robes. “Shall I remain so for you at the party?”

“No darling. I want to keep this between us, for the time being. Put your little leather get up on and come join me.  You’ll be sitting at my feet, keeping me warm.” He winks at Loki, and he smiles shakily. He should have known he’d be returning the favor in some manner. It’s not the Worst thing ever. Sitting in front of the Grandmaster, where all eyes can be on him, but he can’t speak. He’s had other terrible things in his mouth, on his lips, silencing him. The Grandmaster’s cock is hardly a burden. 

Loki charms the floor to be softer, so his knees aren’t so sore through his pants, and he relishes the soft caresses of his hair that the Grandmaster’s hands make. He’s treating Loki like his pet, as he is, and it’s a softer sort of punishment for being sick, for making him leave his people. 

He sighs, and swallows again, excess saliva carrying the bittersalt taste of the Grandmaster’s come. He gets off on this, the more eyes on him, on them, the quicker he’ll finish, shuddering elegantly through his orgasm, and Loki blinks up at him, relishing the satisfaction in the Grandmaster’s glassy gaze. He’s talking to some lady in gold and red, but he’s touching Loki, and giving him most of his attention. It could also be because Loki’s tonguing at his slit, eager to hold him until he’s urged back. The Grandmaster never does actively tell him to stop. 

His fingers grow rough on Loki’s scalp, and tug him sharply over. He huffs a breath, and sets his jaw. 

The Grandmaster smiles at something the lady says, and then looks to him. He shifts his robes and covers himself, then pats his lap. Loki gets to his feet and then fairly collapses atop the being. He’s tucked into the Grandmaster’s chest, and he closes his eyes, forgetting for one moment that he’s playing a part. He takes the comfort he can get. The kind easy words that he’s never heard from anyone except his mother. 

He still hopes Thor will come soon and rescue him from this farce of a life, he’s growing tired of being on stage all the time, but for when sleeping. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> prompted by a friend  
> \-   
> xxx


End file.
